


The Epic of Gilgamesh

by bluemoonrune



Category: Final Fantasy V
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-20 12:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17022723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemoonrune/pseuds/bluemoonrune
Summary: Every hero must embark on a great journey.





	The Epic of Gilgamesh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaclynhyde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaclynhyde/gifts).



> Many, many happy Yuletide returns, Jaclynhyde! I was so excited to receive your prompt as my assignment, & I hope this comes close to fulfilling your wishes.

The library of the Void was a sad, strange affair, littered with occasional spirits and one irritating Ur-Librarian, who tutted whenever Gilgamesh flung scrolls around the place and had made more than one biting and wholly unnecessary remark about the sword marks in the ceiling.

Gilgamesh wasn’t sure why the place even _had_ a library, never mind a librarian (who, no matter what you were looking for, would point you only to the single bookshelf of romantic novels). But given that it had, he had anticipated something even greater than the Library of the Ancients—perhaps a library of boundless splendour, with shelves stretching into the unknown and countless first editions of long-lost treasures. Instead, what he had found was a motley collection of recipe books, the aforementioned romance novels, an advice manual on caring for your first chocobo, and the only thing that came close to meeting his needs: a well-clawed and partially eaten copy of _The Hero with a Thousand Faces_.

One of many proscriptive signs stated that actually borrowing books was strictly forbidden, so Gilgamesh concealed the scroll in his loincloth before sauntering, as discreetly as possible, back into the mostly nothingness that had become his accidental home.

On his way out, he also pocketed _Gysahl Greens Are Not the Only Fruit: A Novice’s Guide to Chocobo Raising_. Bartz might find it edifying.

***

Three days later, or possibly several weeks, Gilgamesh had had several epiphanies and one disturbing hallucination of Bartz as a rampaging (but still beautiful) Valkyrie. He had read the entire scroll in its entirety, twice, and then once backwards to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. He had also incidentally read the guide to chocobo raising, in search of good conversation topics for his next encounter with his chosen nemesis. But first — back to the all-knowing scroll, and his preparations for his Hero’s Journey.

“Bro?” Enkidu’s face appeared above the piles of notes that Gilgamesh had been feverishly writing, his forehead crinkled in apparent concern. “Bro, what are you doing? I haven’t seen you in a _long_ time.”

“Enkidu!” Gilgamesh clasped the hand of his eternal confidante. “I have been enlightened with visions of my true path in the world. As you know," he continued grandly, "I always planned to be a great hero, but circumstances, shall we say,  _distracted_ me from my fate."

"Circumstances?"

"Well — Exdeath's evil nature, being vanquished by my archrival, et cetera, et cetera, and so forth. No matter! Joseph Campbell has shown me what I need to do. I am to set out on a long and heroic journey! And you, my faithful comrade, are to share in my tragedies and my glorious triumphs.”

Enkidu swallowed, and looked a little greener than usual. Probably his diet, Gilgamesh thought. He should make sure to steer his comrade towards healthier choices, if they were both to survive the journey. And how ignoble it would be to have his faithful companion struck down by malnutrition instead of something more classical, like a shipwreck or an epic duel.

He continued, undeterred by Enkidu’s silence. “I now know what I must do to win the affections of my greatest rival. We must venture forth on a dangerous journey through unknown lands, and succeed in a quest beyond our wildest imaginations. Only then, Enkidu, can I obtain my heroic reward!”

“Er… what kind of quest, bro?”

“Naturally, the quest for fame, glory, and the great sword Excalibur! Haven’t you been _listening_ to me?”

“But, uh, you said something about danger. Is this something that could get us killed?” Enkidu’s face was looking gloomier by the minute.

“Who knows? That part of the scroll has been mutilated by some pernicious foe,” Gilgamesh parried, pointing to the bite marks. “But have no fear! We will face all nemeses with our faces and not our backs!”

***

At the pub in Tule, Bartz was facing his own nemesis: his sixth Diamond Dust cocktail of the night. He was alone at the bar, the pirates having stormed the stage two hours ago to demand karaoke. They were currently belting out the old classic _I Wanna Wear You Like a Genji Glove_ , and while Bartz would normally have been accompanying them on the piano, he’d decided instead to have a profound conversation with the drink in front of him.

“’s jus’,” he tried, and slumped again on his barstool. “’s jus’, everyone has _somethin’_. You know.” The cocktail remained impassive. “Like, Lenna has a kingdom… ’n Krile has a kingdom… ’n Faris has a really cool ship…”

“You have this bar, mate,” interjected the bartender, who’d grown used to Bartz’s ramblings. “It’s a good bar. All oak, this bar is.” He knocked on the wood. “You won’t find a better bar than this’n.”

“Yeah, but.” Bartz frowned through the fuzziness of his thoughts. “’s not my bar. You don’t even lemme dance on it.” He’d mastered dancing and everything, back when he’d been saving the world — saving _three_ worlds — but did that get him the right to waltz across a bartop?

What did it get him, anyway?

He glared at the back of the bartender, who was busy casting tactically placed Silence spells on the more raucous of the pirates, and then downed the rest of his drink.

***

“Yo, bro, what _is_ this place?”

Gilgamesh and Enkidu had emerged from the Void into a bustling hallway, where they were surrounded by a motley group of armed fighters preparing for some kind of combat. At the receptionist desk, a purple octopus appeared to be registering combatants.

“Ah! This must be the military headquarters of some great army. Enkidu, we must have been called to lead these unruly troops into battle with our military prowess! You see, I told you joining Exdeath's army would come in useful.” Gilgamesh drew himself up, the splendour of his gold armour reflecting the giant, gaudy “DRAGON’S NECK COLISEUM” sign above him.

Where did that armour come from, anyway? Enkidu was sure he hadn’t been wearing it when they’d launched themselves from the Void.

Oh, well. He shook his head and chased after Gil, who had already upset the octopus and several patrons by cutting in line.

“Enough of this! I have no time to debate with calamari! I am the great General Gilgamesh, and you _will_ accept my military experti—” The octopus, who looked like it had heard multiple similar insults just that morning, reached over to press an alarm button just as Enkidu dragged Gilgamesh away from the receptionist desk.

“Bro, hold up before we both get kicked outta here. Listen, I don’t think this is an army. I don’t think this is a quest at all. Y’know, maybe we just got spat out somewhere at random.”

Gilgamesh looked bewildered, and pulled out the moth-eaten scroll. “The Hero’s Journey _must_ have a purpose, Enkidu. Or it’s just a journey.” This disquieting notion hung in the air as, behind them, a couple of warriors were starting to argue.

“Setzer, I don’t think we should have bet that sword, Excalipur or whatever it is.”

“Look, darlin’, I’m a gambling man — trust me on this one.” Enkidu took a sideways glance at Gilgamesh, who had clearly forgotten all thoughts of marshalling his troops and was staring intently at the couple. “If we lose the sword, I’ll pay you back the five-hundred Gs we dropped on it.”

“…Fine. The battle’s about to start, anyway. Let’s just get this over with.” The two disappeared behind a curtain marked COMBATANTS ONLY, and Enkidu looked up at Gilgamesh, who was gazing after them like a Moogle who’d just discovered Kupo Nuts.

“Enkidu! _They have Excalibur_.”

***

Several weeks later, having been dragged into another conflict over the fate of _another_ world, they were back on track. At least they’d been on the world-saving side this time, though being trapped in Magicite hadn’t been much fun.

And the sword had been a fake, too. At this rate, they would never find the true Excalibur.

The three ducklings before them were looking up at Gilgamesh with some trepidation. “I’m sorry, sir,” one of them — Huey or Dewey — piped up, “but we’ve never even heard of an Excalibur. Would you like to buy some potions?”

Gilgamesh drew himself up to his full majesty (though, Enkidu reflected, he seemed to look shorter and less impressive in this world). “Potions? Hah! A great warrior has no need for medical supplements! I need only the flesh of my enemies and the steel of my blades. And,” he added, as if an afterthought, “I need a mailbox. I have an important missive to send across the multiverse.”

“Oh, mister, there’s a mailbox just down the road,” another of the ducklings said. “But the Heartless are around too. Don’t let them get you, or they’ll steal your heart for sure.”

Gilgamesh looked down at the ducklings pityingly. “Tiny feathered ones, I have no fear that my heart could be stolen. For, you see—” he struck a dramatic pose “—I have already given it to another.”

***

The pirates’ hideout had long been one of Bartz’s favourite drinking spots, but he was there on business that evening, and so he waved the bartender away after his second Moombarita.

“Hey, what’s wrong? The men said you were lookin’ for me.” Faris perched herself on the stool next to him.

“I got this note.” He placed it on the bartop, and she leaned over to read it.

_Bartz, my eternal archrival! I write to you from another dimension, having escaped the Void and all its terrors, so please disregard any delay in delivery services._

_I wish to forewarn you of my impending return. I am well on my way to completing my Hero’s Journey, as defined by the great author Joseph Campbell, Esq. Once my journey is complete, I shall return to take what is rightfully mine. Be prepared._

_Yours,_

_G_

Faris wrinkled her forehead. “G?”

“See, at first I thought _Galuf_ — then I thought, that old coot doesn’t know any of these words. Or didn’t.”

“I’d wager all the gil in my pocket you don’t either.”

“Fair enough. But then I thought, okay Bartz, ol’ buddy, who’ve you sent to the Void lately? And I went through our whole grand adventure, from the beginning — you know, all the temples and castles and that time we saved the dragon, and that other time we saved the other dragon…”

Faris tuned him out. Bartz was one of her greatest allies, and the only one of her former companions who still had the time to join her for sea-marauding and all that, but he tended to get lost in reminiscing. He needed something _real_ to do, something more than adventuring on the high seas — pirating had never been his calling, and he still got more seasick than her greenest cabin boy.

A thought occurred to her. “What about Gilgamesh?”

“Hey, that’s an idea. You think it could be him? I was thinking Ghido. Remember that time I poked him?”

***

“This,” Gilgamesh said, “is _false advertising_.” He was brandishing a poster that stated: “The Gold Saucer, Where Wishes Come True”. He was also brandishing three plushie toys from the claw games, a replica sword that they’d won from the shooting game, a coupon for a discounted stay at the Ghost Hotel, and zero Excaliburs.

“Look, sir,” said the park receptionist, “we cannot guarantee any _individual_ wishes coming true. We only guarantee the _possibility_ that wishes may come true, on the condition that you wish for, say, a nice gondola ride with a loved one.”

“Er, hang on, Gil,” interrupted Enkidu. “I might have, kinda, maybe wished for the plushies.” He plucked one of them — a stuffed Moogle — out of Gilgamesh’s arms. “Also the sword. Pretty cool, huh?”

***

“I suppose,” Gilgamesh said, over drinks in the Void’s coolest (and only) bar, “finding Excalibur _is_ a noble quest?” He pulled out the scroll, which had become a little worse for wear after being stuffed into Magicite and, more recently, chewed by Dalmatian puppies. “What if our goal isn’t noble enough? What if we should be saving the world, or helping orphans, or helping orphans save the world?”

Enkidu scoffed. “Who wants to save the world? That’s not who we are.”

“Bartz saved the world.” There it was again. Gil was getting angsty over his boyfriend, which was one step away from melancholy, and Enkidu _hated_ it when Gil got melancholy.

“Bro,” he said, “I think when it gets down to it — when it really gets down to it — the _real_ hero’s journey is finding out who you are.” That was good. He took a moment to silently applaud himself for that one. “An' if finding some dumb sword is what you’re all about, y’know, _inside_ yourself, then I say it’s a noble quest.”

That seemed to work. Gilgamesh brightened, and went back to drawing a picture of Bartz on his napkin.

***

When they landed in the next plane of existence, Enkidu had his fingers discreetly crossed for something relaxing: a chocobo-farming quest, perhaps, or the opportunity to just sit back and play some cards for the next seventy hours.

He hadn’t counted on the music.

It overtook them as soon as their feet touched the stones, a reverberating beat that swelled all around them. Gilgamesh’s many arms began to twitch, his feet started tapping against the bridge they’d landed on, and within minutes he was — there was no other word for it — _head-banging_. Enkidu tried to shudder, but even his shudder took on the rhythm of the all-enveloping music. In the distance, he could see figures advancing towards them, plowing (no, dancing) their way through monsters that appeared in their path.

A horrible thought occurred to Enkidu as he squinted at the opposing forces. “Hey, bro,” he said, tugging on Gilgamesh’s arm. “I’m thinking maybe we jump back into the Void real fast, you catch my drift?”

Gilgamesh looked horrified. “Inconceivable, Enkidu! Mr Campbell says that he who runs from battle will never know the glory of the heroic boon.” He sniffed. “Anyway, I like this music. It's catchy. I think I’ve heard it somewhere before.”

Enkidu looked back at the approaching figures, who by now were looking suspiciously like a ragtag band of noble warriors. And this bridge looked awfully familiar.

He gulped.

***

The Library of the Ancients should really make allowances for world saviours, Bartz thought as the head librarian confiscated his hip flask before waving him inside. Next time they were in danger from rampaging literature, he would encourage his comrades to let the books just _eat_ everyone.

He entered the stacks without trepidation, ignoring the occasional possessed book flinging itself at him. What, after all, was a little library-navigatin’ to someone who had travelled three worlds?

As it turned out, quite a lot. The stacks loomed ahead of him, each looking identical to the last, and not one of them having anything written by someone named Joseph Campbell. What kinda name was that, anyway? And the only book he managed to find on the Void was titled _True Confessions: Falling in Love on the Spirit Plane_ , which seemed a lot more, well, _graphic_ than he was looking for. (He still tucked that one into his pocket, though. For reference.)

Upon rounding the next bookcase, he at least found something intriguing. Mid and Krile were sitting across a study table from each other; their hands were intertwined, and they seemed entirely oblivious to his presence. He let out a helpful wolf-whistle to alert them.

“Oh! Bartz, how nice to see you here.” Krile seemed unabashed, though Mid looked abashed enough for both of them. “Did you come looking for us?”

“Nah, just, uh — learning?” At that, both Mid and Krile looked sceptical. What, did they think he’d never visited a library for research purposes? “Hey, you know anything about a Hero’s Journey? I got this — I think it’s from ol’ Gilgamesh.” He handed them the letter to peruse.

“A real letter from another dimension?” Mid said. “How fascinating! I shall have to show my grandfather. Imagine the new discoveries this could open up — communication with other planes of existence, perhaps even visiting other worlds…” His voice trailed off, but Bartz could see his thoughts whirring in rhapsodies over the letter’s research potential.

“Right,” said Bartz. “But what does it mean? A Hero’s Journey, calling me his eternal archrival, all this talk of _taking what’s mine_. It doesn’t exactly sound like he’s sending hugs and kisses.”

“It sure sounds like you’ll have to fight him,” piped up Krile, not exactly looking woebegone at the prospect of Bartz’s potential impending death. “But he seemed nice, the last time we saw him. D’you think he blames us for sending him to the Void?”

“I dunno, but I guess I’d better start preparing. Get back into fighting shape and all that. If it’s just me and him, _mano a mano_ , I dunno if I can win.”

***

It had been Enkidu’s idea to split up. He’d presented it as a time-saving idea — _hey, Bro, if we split up we’ll find Excalibur in half the time. Maybe vanquish some enemies too! Remember how you used to like vanquishing stuff?_

That, Gilgamesh reflected, had been uncalled-for. He still liked vanquishing things very much. He had been the greatest vanquisher in Exdeath’s army, back before Bartz had shown up. But when you had an archnemesis to think about, you couldn’t concern yourself with petty foes. It would be— well, unchivalrous.

In any case, even master vanquishers had to eat occasionally. And after all that dancing, he was so, _so_ hungry.

In a stroke of pure luck, a noblewoman appeared at the entrance to the alleyway where he’d been hiding out. No, not hiding, _biding his time_. This city (Alexandria, he’d heard it called) was teeming with nobility, and though they were less friendly than the slumdwellers, they were also less aware of their surroundings, and much more prone to carrying their purses in the open. It was the work of a moment for Gilgamesh to reach one of his right hands into her purse as she passed him, drawing out a hundred gil and some kind of playing card.

Once, in a previous dimension, Gilgamesh had looked down on any kind of theft as the province of small-scale criminals, the kind who wouldn’t even make it into the lowest ranks of Exdeath’s army. But the Scroll had taught him that it was necessary to use whatever means were at his disposal to achieve his ends. Joseph Campbell must be a brilliant man.

In fact, it occurred to him as he sauntered away to buy bread, maybe all this Excalibur-seeking had been a misinterpretation of his heroic quest. This city had a whole lot of things just sitting there, waiting to be taken. Maybe he’d let Enkidu deal with finding Excalibur — after all, his henchman was more suited to straightforward tasks. He, Gilgamesh, could delve into the subtle art of treasure-hunting, seeking lost artifacts and buried jewels. A kind of heroic archaeologist, he thought to himself, whistling, as he divested a passing urchin of her meagre savings.

***

It was to his eternal shame that Gilgamesh arrived in the next world with fewer arms than usual.

There was only one thing for it.

“Look, bro,” Enkidu kept saying as they crested a nearby hilltop to get the lay of the land. “I just don’t think this is goin' to help us stay under the radar.” He gestured towards the newly affixed and crudely drawn wooden arms, without which Gilgamesh had refused to leave the cave where they’d landed.

“Shh,” Gilgamesh said, his eyes on the heavens. “Do you hear that?” Enkidu glanced up to the sky, which had darkened in the space of a few seconds. It did sound like fighting was going on nearby. He could hear a horse galloping, the clash of swords, a scream. And then a strange whirring, as if something were flying through the air —

Gilgamesh raised one of his non-wooden arms to catch the sword that was hurtling towards them. He brandished it to the sky, wielding it as easily as if it had been forged for him, and turned to his comrade in arms.

“ _This_ is Excalibur. And _it is time_.”

***

“A job well done, my viridescent comrade!” Gilgamesh declared, flourishing Excalibur before him. They had just departed the victory party at Balamb Garden, where he’d had to drag Enkidu away from an inebriated Siren. “And now, we must return to our homeland, to collect our noble reward. Well,” he clarified, "my noble reward. Maybe we can set you up with Faris or something." He certainly didn't want Enkidu getting ideas about Bartz owing him any boons.

Not that that was likely to pose a problem, given the Siren situation. He glanced at Enkidu, who was muttering something about a _stupid sword_ and _stupid quests_.

It took them hours to figure out the correct co-ordinates to return to their home world. It didn’t help that Enkidu, who was the only one who actually comprehended the Void’s navigation system, was still sulking over some indecent seafoam wench. Really, it was a pity that his companion couldn’t focus on higher-minded things than a silly crush.

At last, they landed on the grasslands outside of Tule, only to see Bartz himself advancing towards them. This was unintended, and certainly not how Gilgamesh himself had planned it. He hadn’t even had the opportunity to change into his reunion outfit. A great loss; he had glued on all the sequins separately, with the utmost care. But if this was how the fates had decided it: well, then!

“Gilgamesh,” Bartz said, coming to a halt about ten feet away. “I got your letter. And I gotta say—” he swallowed “—I’m sorry you got stuck in the Void. It must have been awful for you. You were decent to us, at least more decent than anyone else in Exdeath’s army, and you didn’t deserve to go there. I didn’t send you there, but if you blame me, well, that’s OK. But I don’t want to kill you.” He placed his sword on the ground. “Or for you to kill me.”

 _Kill…?_ Gilgamesh stared at him. Hadn’t his wretched emotional state been clear from his letter? Hadn’t his feelings shone through on every word? “Bartz,” he said finally, “how could you, my only archrival, say such things? I have traversed countless dimensions to return to your side, conversed with all manner of strange animals, even _danced_ —”

Bartz blinked. For a moment, he looked like nothing so much as a lost and confused chipmunk. Gilgamesh filed the mental image away for a future painting, and then surged onward. “I would never dream of _killing_ my archrival. Naturally we might spar, even joust if the mood strikes, but — don’t you understand? Our rivalry is too precious to lose.”

The first glimmerings of understanding were beginning to appear on Bartz’s face. “But you said in your letter that you’d ‘take what’s rightfully yours’. What did you mean, if you weren’t planning to kill me?”

It was time to drop any pretence of subtlety; despite his many fine qualities, Bartz clearly wasn’t picking up on Gilgamesh’s declarations of love. Gilgamesh crossed the distance between them, dropping his swords as he went, and clasped Bartz’s hands in two of his. “Well, of course — I mean _you_. If you’ll let me.”

“Me? What? I mean, I hadn’t thought about it… but, hang on! Rightfully? How am I _rightfully_ yours?”

“Look,” Gilgamesh said, pulling out the last remnants of the scroll. “Once the hero completes his quest, he receives a great boon. It is written!”

Bartz peered curiously at the stained, dog-eared text. “So, you think I’m a boon?” A flush was beginning to suffuse the edges of his cheeks. “A _great_ boon?” An arch smile was playing around his lips. “I’ve never been a great boon before.” His hands were still entwined with Gilgamesh’s, and his eyes were wide and disconcerting, and his lips —

_Oh, to hell with it._

Gilgamesh lowered his lips to capture Bartz’s in a kiss, one that was unwarrantedly gentle given the lengths he’d gone to to get it. And then another, less gentle, and a third, and by the time they came up for air, Gilgamesh was vaguely aware that they’d become surrounded by a crew of drunken pirates shouting lewd suggestions at them. He thought he recognised Faris's voice among the rabble.

“Well, erm,” Bartz said, blushing intensely at this point. “D’you want to…?” He jerked his head towards the inn.

Gilgamesh did.


End file.
